Page 64 of The Runaway Bride and the Highlander
“Och, I dinnae think that’s a good idea, my lady,” Katherine blurted. “Ye’ve only just woken up.”
Skylar looked about the room at all the bottles of tonics and potions that sat on the shelves before bringing her eyes back to the healer. “Ye must surely have some concoction in one o’ these bottles that will tide me over for a little while. Please,” Skylar begged. “I promise I willnae get myself too excited.”
The old man smiled once again. “I couldnae imagine anyone could stop ye even if they tried, Skylar. Ye’re a woman with a mind o’ yer own.”
He walked across the room and took a careful look at some bottles on a shelf halfway up the wall. The glass tinkled as he searched through them, clearly looking for something specific.
When he returned, he held a tiny bottle in his hand. “If I thought I could keep ye in this bed without giving this tae ye, I certainly would. But I think I ken ye well enough now tae ken that just isnae possible.”
Skylar smiled, for they both knew he was right.
Handing her the bottle, he ordered her to take a couple of sips of the tonic there and then. “If ye start tae feel dizzy at any time,” he said after she had done so, “just take it as and when needed. Dinnae take too much, though. It’s powerful.” Turning to Katherine, Kendrick continued. “Go with Skylar, Katherine, and dinnae leave her side until she reaches the laird’s bedchamber, do ye hear?”
“Aye, Kendrick. I willnae.”
Katherine chattered all the way through the castle and up the stairs, telling Skylar how worried everyone was and that they had not known what to think. Then she said how the entire castle was in an uproar when the laird returned so badly injured.
It was only when they reached the bedchamber door that she finally stopped.
“Och, good lord, I’ve been wittering on this whole time,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I was just so frightened for ye and for the laird.” She looked at Skylar sadly. “I’m so sorry that all this has happened tae ye, my lady. I truly am. Ye’re far too good o’ a person tae have deserved any o’ it.”
In one sense, Katherine’s talking had kept Skylar’s mind occupied, for it was only when the maid opened the bedchamber door that her heart began to thump in her chest at what she would find behind it. The first person she saw was not Maxwell, however, but Bram, who had but a moment before been sitting at Maxwell’s bedside. Looking up and seeing her enter, he had quickly risen from his seat and strode across the room to her.
“Och, Skylar,” he said, his tone full of regret and sadness. Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her tentatively, clearly aware of the injuries she herself had sustained. Skylar wrapped her arms around Bram and hugged him back, a wave of emotion suddenly washing over her. By the time he released her, she had tears in her eyes.
“How are ye doing?” he asked, looking at her with a worried expression. His gaze fell to her right eye, and he slowly shook his head. She hadn’t seen how bad it was yet, but by Bram’s expression, she knew it was clearly not anything pretty to look at.
“I’ll mend, Bram. Dinnae be worrying about me.”
Looking past him, she saw Maxwell laying completely still in the bed beyond. Only for the soft rise and fall of his chest would anyone know he was still living.
“How is he?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion and tears in her eyes. She walked towards his bed as Bram followed and answered her question.
“We’ve seen some battles, Skylar,” Bram said heavily, “but he’s never been injured this badly.”
Maxwell lay in the bed without a shirt, the thick bandage wrapped securely around his chest where the dagger had punctured him. It was a little bloodstained where the wound had taken its time to stop bleeding. His face was pale, and his breathing labored. Skylar could easily say she had never seen him look so very weak and helpless.
“I kent this would happen,” she whispered. “I kent I would be the death of him.”
“Ye cannae say that, Skylar. If Maxwell hadnae battled Johnson on that glen, he’d have broken intae the man’s castle tae rescue ye.”
“Ye dinnae understand, Bram. I saw what would happen. That’s why I left. I didnae want him coming after me.”
“We kent why ye left,” Bram said, looking at her knowingly. “That’s why we arrived when we did. We worked out why ye had run away and came after ye.”
Skylar sighed deeply. “I wish ye hadnae.”
“Well, I’m glad we did. And nae matter the state Maxwell is in, I ken he is glad too. He loves ye tae death, Skylar. He wouldnae ever let anything happen tae ye.”
A small time later, Bram decided he should leave but not before checking she was all right to be left on her own. Skylar told him she would be fine, and only after a minute’s hesitation did Bram stride across the room, telling her he would give them some time alone.
When the door closed behind him, Skylar finally allowed herself to sob. It was agonizing, for on each sharp intake of breath, excruciating pain shot across her back and through her head. Yet, she could not stop the tears. Now sitting in the chair Bram had previously vacated, she leaned forward and took Maxwell’s hand in her own. It was cold and heavy. Whereas before, she had always felt his fingers curl around hers, this time, they lay almost lifeless against her palm.
This had all been her fault. The vision had come true, and resting her head on the bed, she gazed up at him in her sadness. It was some twisted kind of irony that the woman who loved him the most would be the woman who caused his death.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
The dagger had sunk deep, for Maxwell had felt it slice through his flesh. The pain did not come immediately, but as though there had been some sort of delay, he felt it a few seconds later. Dropping to his knees, he put his hands on his chest. When he pulled them away again, he almost felt surprised at seeing the blood. There was so much of it, red and sticky and warm, oozing out of him like water. It was the strangest experience, actually feeling the power leaving his body, or perhaps it was his soul, for he could not imagine he would survive such an injury.
